


The Greatest Gift

by GravityAlwaysWins



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, Post-Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravityAlwaysWins/pseuds/GravityAlwaysWins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a little ficlet I wrote for a fanfiction challenge.  I was given a QaF couple (Ted and Blake), along with three words/phrases: "winter", "power failure", and "dinner" and was challenged to incorporate them into a short fic.</p><p>I hope you enjoy the result :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Gift

Blake pressed his finger to the window before him, carving out a trail of curved lines in the moisture that formed where the warmth of his breath met the ice-cold glass. A recent power failure had left the city below him blanketed in darkness and now the streets he once called home were lit only by the shimmer of headlights as they pierced like needles through the falling snow. From nine stories above, he watched life unfold beneath him, marveling at how small the people looked as they drifted in clusters along the pavement. He too had been a drifter, lost in a sea of hollowed, sunken faces, floating aimlessly through time, yearning for a fix that would fill his veins with fire and keep him warm. It was a bitter, lonesome existence, one he was happy to leave behind, and yet with little effort he could recall the way, on nights like these, the icy winter air would nip at his nose and drain the colour from his cheeks until they were nearly translucent. The world around him was cruel and unforgiving then, and in these moments of stillness and reflection, he felt more guilt than pride for having escaped it all while so many others continued to struggle.

His guilt was overridden though, when in the distance he heard the sandpapery scrape of a match against its box. As he turned toward the sound, he was met with the sight of his partner’s kind eyes, each one reflecting the orange flickers of a freshly lit flame. Even amidst the faint bit of light, he could sense the gentleness within them, the unwavering admiration and belief that seemed to pour from them, unhindered by doubt and without need for reason or reward. It was this gentleness that, in his most sorrowful and searing states of desperation, had provided him with enough courage and strength and will to carry on fighting. 

To this day, there were moments he felt deeply undeserving of the man with whom he shared his life, and yet each time their eyes met, he was flooded with a sense of happiness and contentment that seemed to shrink his every worry and misfortune to a distant memory. He had never dared to dream of, long for, or imagine this sort of happiness, but somehow he was fortunate enough to have found it. He watched quietly from a distance, overcome with emotion as the man delicately placed a small red candle at the center of their dinner table, then pulled out a chair and smiled, an unspoken invitation to join him for a warm meal on a cold night.

But the young blond stood motionless, an expression of both sadness and gratefulness etched on his face. His life had been one of struggle and impermanence, one in which life itself was seeped in uncertainty, and though the months and years he spent living on the brink had left him with many scars, they had given him a gift far greater than any burden he was forced to bear - the gift of gratitude. To him, there was no grander pleasure in life than the simple one he was about to enjoy - eating a meal at a table with the man he loved in a home they shared together, knowing that in the morning they would wake to find each other and the love they first felt long ago would still be there.


End file.
